


Patchwork Bouquets (Sorry Can't Fix This)

by Aston (AstonT)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstonT/pseuds/Aston
Summary: Oikawa knew by the end of third year that his time playing volleyball was limited.Snapshots from the time his knee was injured to him no longer being able to play





	Patchwork Bouquets (Sorry Can't Fix This)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my lovely friends from discord ^^

The first day with his knee being injured was probably the hardest - it was terrifying and new and honestly? Painful in a way he didn’t think it would be. 

The physical pain he felt he could handle - it was dull, he hadn’t noticed it at all until he was back on his feet - but he knew that it was going to affect his ability to play volleyball and the emotional blow that came with that knowledge was enough to put him back on the ground if him trying to take a step didn’t. 

He didn’t remember going home - he couldn’t remember how he got there with his knee so messed up, and he certainly couldn’t remember getting in the door. 

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that he didn’t  _ stay _ home long, but it did. It was like he wasn’t there, just watching in short flashes as things happened - going through the front door of his home, barely collapsing against the doorframe as his knee finally gave, and then being rushed out the door again with his father carrying him, careful not to touch his bad knee all the while. 

He did remember coming back into reality to the smell of a hospital room, though, and a soft voice explaining to his parents what was wrong with his knee. 

He  _ remembered  _ but God did he wish he didn’t. 

* * *

He wasn’t allowed back on the court that year - that memory came along with the distant flashes of fresh-to-wilting bouquets (daisies and pink and blue hydrangeas, he still remembered his mother telling him what they were when he asked because he wanted a distraction and for her to stay and just talk to him) with little cards all wishing him to get better soon.

He wanted to be back out there, but it was all doctor’s visits and therapy and making sure his knee healed properly. 

School was hell - knee braced and barely able to bend, and the bad days where pain flared up if he put any weight at all on it led to him missing school and barely being able to keep up in his classes - and with no real distraction, there was nothing he could do but sit around and wait for clearance to go back and be where he loved being. 

Those days were the worst - his second year of junior high, he wasn’t on the volleyball team as more than someone who stayed in the cheer block of the bleachers because he couldn’t physically handle being something more. They were marked in pain and pitying looks and the fear that he’d never get to go back to the sport he loved. 

On the good days, Iwaizumi was a dull beacon, carefully avoiding the topic of volleyball by instead directing their conversations to aliens or Godzilla theories or  _ anything but volleyball and how Oikawa’s knee was doing. _

And on the bad ones, it was silent support, visiting and bringing notes and homework and stories from classes without a word about why Oikawa wasn’t there. 

There was no other way for Iwaizumi to help him that year - no one could help him that year, and everyone was startlingly aware of that fact. 

* * *

Third year of junior high brought with it fresh faces and Oikawa being back on the court - wearing a supporter sometimes and on the good days, leaving it off much to the disappointment of Iwaizumi.

He practiced as hard and often as he could get away with - always under the careful eye of either the coach or Iwaizumi - and he absolutely refused to let the small twinges of pain stop him when they showed up. 

Of course, with that came a nightmare - Kageyama Tobio was both a blessing and a curse for Oikawa. 

Someone that looked up to him, but someone who could easily surpass him. 

It was easily more terrifying than the thought last year that he’d never be allowed back on the court - the idea that he could be replaced so easily despite him trying  _ so hard _ to be better than he was before his injury. 

It was a lot of pressure to him and he knew no one else got it. 

* * *

The worst moment of his third year as a junior high student was easily nearly hitting his kouhai - he had spent that afternoon after that near-mistake practicing and it  _ hurt _ but he knew if he stopped, he was going to break.

He didn’t care about the injury, he didn’t care that he was risking everything, he just wanted the feeling of worthlessness that had settled within him gone. 

Because really, what kind of person would hit someone who just wanted to learn? 

The lecture he got from Iwaizumi following that lasted the entire trip home - practicing that hard, for that long, without his brace  _ and  _ ignoring his body telling him that he was pushing too far beyond his limits had been a mistake he’d never forget. 

The next day, he nearly panicked when he couldn’t bend his knee properly without pain shooting through it. He remembered sitting on the side of his bed with silent tears falling until Iwaizumi showed up to walk to school with him and found him. 

Neither of them went to school that day, and it had taken three hours to get Oikawa to calm back down and just rest. 

* * *

The end of junior high was probably the easiest time on him - once he’d gotten his stupidity out and seen the aftermath, he had straightened up quickly.

He still felt flashes of fear almost as often as he felt the flashes of pain, but he started ignoring them for the most part - he couldn’t do anything and if he was replaced well… served him right, he supposed. 

* * *

His first year at Aoba Jousai was… rough.

The coach was doubtful of letting him play with his bad knee, which was  _ humiliating _ to go through. 

He was skilled despite that injury - in fact he’d improved quite a bit  _ because _ of said injury, why should the fact that he was hurt matter if he was careful?

Iwaizumi became his rock again in the beginning of that year. It had taken half of the term to prove he was able to play despite his bad knee. 

The next challenge was dealing with the questions from his coach on “how’s your knee doing” every time he was allowed to play. 

He appreciated the concern, but he didn’t like the tone of doubt he heard in it. 

* * *

He hit a wall in his second year - he supposed that jump serves were something that would put strain on his knee, even with the supporter he had to wear to every practice and game (coach required it or he was benched) but it was infuriating that he couldn’t improve anymore without being in pain from trying.

Iwaizumi started staying after with him, keeping a careful eye on his practice and stepping in the moment he saw a flash of pain go across his features even for the briefest moment. 

Most of that year was spent with a brace again - a stumble during practice and him landing on his leg the wrong way had sent a big enough shock of pain through him that he had agreed to sit out the rest of the time, only to be told he’d very nearly reinjured it.

He couldn’t bend it properly for the rest of the day, and walking still hurt a week later. 

That year was the one that brought with it the most support from Iwaizumi - it never failed, every game, the other helped him to the change room because he knew an entire game always hurt and that walking was becoming painful after so much strain to his knee. 

* * *

Their final game that year, he sat out the second set - they won without him, but it didn’t feel the same.

He just knew that his knee wasn’t allowing it that day, and one set had to be enough. 

It had to be. 

They never made it past the first match of the tournament after that - it was disappointing, but not altogether unexpected. 

* * *

The break before their third year began, Iwaizumi refused to watch Oikawa train more - he knew his knee wasn’t going to be able to handle it, so he distracted the other in any way he could just to save them both the pain.

He couldn’t do anything to stop Oikawa from throwing himself into training as soon as the year began, and well, as long as Oikawa was happy it was fine. 

* * *

The first month of practice was touch-and-go. A break of no practice meant limits he wasn’t expecting to hit and dealing with the annoyance of multiple breaks he didn’t want to take.

He knew it was what was best for him, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

Facing his old kouhai was rough - especially wearing the supporter, he knew it was no secret that his knee was bad with it on display so openly.

It was worth it - they’d both improved so much, and he was proud despite himself. 

* * *

Third year brought the worst of the pain.

It brought swallowed pride being a problem - he started hating Iwaizumi trying to walk him off the court to the change room, started feeling weak that he couldn’t handle a short walk after a full match. 

And so, he learned to hide his pain. 

If Iwaizumi didn’t see it, he didn’t try to help. 

* * *

As much as he hated to admit it, he was almost relieved that their last game was a loss - he hated it, because he never wanted to leave the court, he wanted their year to end on such a better note than a loss, but he knew his knee wasn’t going to allow another game that year.

His well-built mask was crumbling and it was all he could do to be strong enough for his team and hide that he was in so much pain. 

He never wanted it to end, but if what his body was saying was any indication, his days were already numbered in the sport. 

* * *

Separate colleges - thankfully close enough that they could share an apartment - was both a blessing and a curse for Oikawa.

He wasn’t worried about Iwaizumi seeing him push himself in practice when he was playing with a community team, but he needed that support, that limit and he knew it. 

The bad days came up more often during their days at college - he barely managed classes some days, and some days he barely managed to make it to their kitchen for food. It was painful and torturous, but expected. 

The worst part of any of it?

The pain he could see in Iwaizumi’s eyes on his bad days when he could barely manage to look after himself. The knowledge that he was hurting his best friend by having these days and he couldn’t do a damn thing to fix it. 

It was harder to hide something when you live with the person you want to hide it from, and he learned that the hard way through Iwaizumi coming into his room because he heard a pained noise or a not-quite-muffled-enough sob. 

It hurt, and it wasn’t even the physical pain that was the worst of it. 

But there weren’t issues that stopped him from playing.

Sure, the bad days meant missing practice, but he could still play. 

* * *

Honestly, he had known in high school that eventually his knee would eventually stop him from playing.

He just wished that the final blow hadn’t happened in the middle of a set. 

He felt the twinge of pain before the play and wrote it off - he wasn’t serving, he wouldn’t be jumping, it would be fine until they had a moment to breathe. 

Which might be why him turning to set and it giving and him hitting the floor with it in the next moment was so shocking. 

The pain didn’t register, he still set the ball. 

But as soon as it was over the net - it fit the floor, the other team being too shocked by his collapse to react in time, their point - the pain hit him all at once and he bit down on his lip to keep from making a noise as he used the net to pull himself up. 

Putting weight down on his right leg hurt, but he couldn’t do anything about it. 

He wasn’t about to try walking, and he knew his team knew he was done. 

There wasn’t anything else to do. 

* * *

He’d seen the day coming, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon.

The days following his knee finally giving out on him were filled with more bouquets (white and pink and blue and too bright and cheerful) and him not wanting to be around anyone or take any calls. 

Iwaizumi was the only one who was allowed close, and even then he kept his distance respectfully when he saw the lost look in Oikawa’s eyes come midday. 

There was nothing to say to someone who had just lose what they were most passionate about in such a painful way. 

It was over. They both knew it, and it was probably the hardest thing to admit for either of them. 


End file.
